Fiefling
by Mystwalker
Summary: Sequel to Erenne. Growing up is hard in most cases, but when you're the daughter of the Chosen and an Outcaste Barrani Lord, it's safe to say you might experience more difficulty than most, especially if you seem to have inherited your mother's penchant for trouble. Contains OCs.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **So, the one shot series didn't end up being a one-shot series after all, although I'm still planning to write a Nightlin-centric one-shot series between _Erenne _and this one. In the meantime, here's a plot bunny that wouldn't go away.

**Disclaimer:**I do not own the Chronicles of Elantra. They belong to Michelle Sagara.

XxXxX

**CHAPTER 1**

When Cian opened her eyes, her bedroom was filled with the gray light of very early morning. She groaned, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand and staring up at the glass ceiling above her. It looked like the beginning of a clear, sunny day to her eye, and her frown deepened. She'd hoped for a little rain, something to drive the fief's residents indoors, but she supposed of all the things her father could control in the fief, the weather wasn't one of them.

Not that she would have asked him to even if he could, considering this course of action was definitely unsanctioned.

With a sigh, she slid out of bed, glancing around the room. Her eyes landed on the thick, leather-bound tome on her desk, and she glared at it mutinously. So much for her plan to wake up a few hours early and skim the first two chapters. It figured that the only time she actually slept through the night was the time she had counted on waking up. Well, there wasn't any helping it now. Maybe he wouldn't ask about the book.

She snorted softly to herself at her line of thinking, glancing at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were shifting a little too close to blue, a sign of how much she really believed that. If it had been a bet, she probably wouldn't touch it.

It had been the dream, she thought, frowning as she stared at herself in the mirror. That stupid dream had kept her asleep again. She could feel the details of it beginning to blur in her mind and slip away, and it annoyed her. Barrani were supposed to have perfect recall. She sometimes did—and even her imperfect memories were relatively sharp compared to those of mortals. But she could never remember that stupid dream.

Cian opened her wardrobe, divesting herself of her sleeping robe and staring at the selection of clothing inside. She ignored the gowns, instead pulling out a dark shirt and trousers. She tugged those over herself, slipping on a pair of gloves and a pair of soft leather boots as well. Her gloves were black, a silvery design engraved on the back of the hands—a rose on each hand. Once that was done, she opened her drawer, eschewing the jewelry and elaborate hair decorations for a simple strap, which she used to tie her long dark hair up into a high ponytail. She opened a second drawer, this one filled with metal objects of a different sort. She selected six weighted throwing knives, slipping two into hidden slots in her boots, two in her gloves, and two into hidden pockets in her shirt. Barrani clothing was useful like that. It made those sort of allowances.

She grabbed her sword belt and buckled it around her waist, then paused for a moment as she reached for the saber that rested on its stand, in the corner of her room. The rapier's hilt gleamed a cool silver in the early morning light, the ornate design cradling her hand. She slid it out of its sheath. It went without a sound, and she took a moment to admire both the magic that had gone into the sheathe and the skill that had gone into forging the blade. She let it rest in her hand, adjusting her grip so that the elegant guard covered her palm, and took a few practice swings. Satisfied, she slid it back into its sheath, letting it rest at her hip.

The sword was also Barrani-make, and had been a present from her father, once her mother had deemed her old enough to have one and once Andellen had deemed her competent enough to not accidentally slice off her own fingers. Once she had started taking up what her father occasionally referred to as her 'hobby', Kaylin Neya had taken her to see Evanton, claiming that the enchantments on her sheath would be useful.

She had to admit that they were.

After a moment's hesitation, she reached for her cloak, tossing it on over her shoulders. Dressed like this, she was known anywhere in the fief she went—although in fairness, if she were dressed in a sack she would be known anywhere in the fief she went—and now might potentially be one of those situations her father would say called for discretion.

With her hood up, she might not look inconspicuous, but she didn't quite look like the fieflord's daughter either. And at the moment, that would be a good thing, since the particular scumbag they were intercepting was probably expecting her. Satisfied, she lowered her hood and walked out into the hallway.

It was early enough that the halls were quiet. Their inhabitants were almost all Barrani, so none of them needed sleep, but there were hours where a certain amount of activity was acceptable and areas where it wasn't. She took another glance at the sky. Her mother probably wouldn't be awake for another half hour or so, and that was if she was getting to work on time today. That was often a big 'if'. She considered making her way to the dining hall but decided against it. She had to leave early, so it wasn't like she would be present for breakfast anyway, and the etiquette at home was a little more relaxed than Court etiquette was.

Besides, there was the chance that her father would actually _be _in the dining hall at this time, and if she had her way, she didn't want to see him until she returned and had a full two hours to flip through Nerian's _Principal Magical Theory_.

She made for the kitchens instead, casually filching an apple from the bowl and tossing it in her hand. She rubbed it against the fabric of her cloak and leaned against the counter, taking a bite.

"Good morning, Cian."

_Crap. _

She almost choked. Almost. Her eyes widened, becoming the sharp blue of surprise, but she managed to inhale and swallow in succession, not in tandem. A full-blooded Barrani would have been able to do it without struggling. Cian, unfortunately, had her moments. But she turned, and managed what she hoped was a decently polite bow without any apple juice dribbling its way down her chin.

"Father," she said neutrally.

She held her breath, wondering if he knew about the book. His eyes fixed on her for a moment, their color shifting slightly towards blue as he trailed them over her choice of clothing and the apple in her hand.

He knew.

"You aren't joining us for breakfast?" he asked, almost casually.

She cleared her throat. "I, unfortunately, have to leave early today," she said. "I gave the others strict instructions to assemble at eight."

"You are planning to intercept Chandler." It wasn't a question. Her response was a fief shrug, because why bother denying it?

"Yes," she said. "...Does that go against anything you're planning?"

He frowned at her for a moment, before calmly shaking his head. "No," he said. "The human named Chandler's activities are of no consequence to me at the moment. You may do as you wish where he is concerned."

She exhaled and nodded once, taking another bite out of the apple. The Roses very rarely got involved in anything big enough to start treading on the fieflord's toes. The one time they had—and that was _one _time—Cian had immediately dropped all involvement with the project. Despite what others thought about the Barrani, that wasn't a game she wanted to play.

Still, judging from the way her father was looking at her, she guessed that there was more to the story. She shot him a puzzled frown for a moment, taking another bite of the apple. If he noticed, he said nothing. He hadn't attempted to stop her, so Cian assumed that she wasn't in any particular danger. At least where Nightshade was concerned. He and her mother had very different definitions of danger.

She leaned towards his definition most of the time, but made a mental note of it just in case as she took another bite.

"...Have you looked at _Principal Magical Theory?" _asked Nightshade.

She swallowed. This time, she had the grace _not _to choke.

"Yes," she said. It was true, in fairness. She _had _looked at it. Looked at it, cursed at it, contemplated burning it—she just hadn't _read _it.

"I see," said Nightshade. His tone sounded amused, in a way that told her she was soon about to be caught by her own trap. "...What can you tell me about it?"

She hesitated for a moment, raising her eyes to meet his. "It..." she began. "...appears to be a book relating to magical theory."

"By that, you mean you've read one page."

She sighed, defeated. "Two," she said. "I read a full page _after_ I started feeling like I was about to die of boredom."

"A remarkable achievement." His tone was dry. "Your self-control is growing by leaps and bounds."

"You know," she said, "It's occurred to me that I literally have forever to get it read."

"Of course, Daughter," was the cool reply. "In that time, I suppose you would also be able to find a new teacher. I am sure Lord Sanabalis would appreciate your particular brand of humor."

She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Point taken," she said, sliding into Elantran. "I'll read it after I get back." His brow rose. "...Alright!" she said. "Tonight! I'll read it tonight! I'll stay up all night if I have to, and I'll sit in the library."

"Very well," he said. "I look forward to discussing it tomorrow." He spoke in a tone that told her there would _be _a discussion, whether or not she had read the book, and how pleasant it would be for her would depend entirely on her actions tonight. She inwardly winced, and made a mental note to actually _read _enough of the damn thing. Given the way his eyes were beginning to shade towards blue, she knew better than to argue about it.

She nodded once, making her way towards the door with a polite 'Excuse me'. He didn't attempt to block her passage, so she guessed that the conversation was over, but as she made her way down the hall, he turned towards her.

"Cian," he said.

She frowned in confusion, pausing in her walk and looking back at him.

"Father?" she asked.

"Shouldn't you be taking a guard?"

XxXxX

In the end, she had managed to refuse the guard, partly because Chandler was cowardly and sneaky, but a minor threat and partly because she would never live it down. Or rather—she would, because every other member of her hastily thrown together organization was mortal—but she had no desire to wait the requisite six or seven decades it would take for the story to die out. She stood in the shadow of one of the fief's buildings, an area that had been carefully cleared of squatters, and kept her eye on the bridge across the Ablayne, her hood up to hide her face and her shifting eyes.

A sound behind her drew her attention, and she turned her head just enough to see who it was. Cian relaxed as she identified the intruder, removing her hand from the space where she kept her daggers. The other person was blond—a human girl around Cian's age, which would have been extremely impossible were it not for the fact that Cian was still very much a child by Barrani standards—and was dressed in the same attire, her blond hair pulled back and clipped up so it was out of her face. She carried a long wooden staff in one hand, and wore the gloves with the rose symbol on the back of them. Cian and the rest of the Roses knew better than to question the efficacy of Laila's chosen weapon—they had all seen her break bones before with a well-placed swing.

"Everyone's in position," she said, coming to stand next to Cian and concealing herself in the shadow as well.

Cian glanced back at her. "Ari has eyes on the bridge?" she asked.

Laila nodded once. "Eyes, arrows, and instructions to shoot if things go south."

"And Squatter's Row's secure?" asked Cian.

Laila snorted, her grip tightening on her staff. "I left it to Jacob and Pedri," she said.

"Meaning?" asked Cian, quirking an eyebrow.

Laila flashed her a small grin. "Meaning it's secure, or the rest of us will be in for a show when you find them."

"Alright," said Cian, nodding once. "You get back in position. Back me up on my signal."

She grinned. "You got it," she said, disappearing back into the streets. Cian watched her go, before turning her attention back towards the bridge. She waited. This was the worst part—the waiting. It would get easier with time, she knew. She was immortal, and as such, she was sure a time would come when she wouldn't feel the passage of time so acutely. But she was eighteen now, a child by Barrani standards and barely more than a child by human standards. She felt the passage of time, and she knew that it wasn't entirely unfounded. Her youth wasn't infinite, and she was finding herself falling more and more into the shape of her name.

When she took hold of its shape entirely, she would be considered an adult by the Barrani, and that would mean no more child's play—she would be qualified for the real games.

But for now, she put those thoughts out of her mind and focused on the bridge, and on Chandler.

Chandler was one of those people that had managed to distinguish himself as more criminal than anyone else in the fief, which was an achievement, considering Cian and her Roses weren't strictly on the legal side themselves. He was a slave trader—his favorite targets were abandoned or orphaned children, something the fief of Nightshade had in abundance. He had been remarkably hard to get a hold of, but after careful investigation and the right flow of funds, they had managed to glean that he would be meeting with his contact from the City, and to do that, someone—either Chandler or the contact—would have to come to the bridge.

She hoped it was Chandler, personally. As a result of her youth, Cian was perpetually impatient, and she wanted to get her hands on Chandler. His kidnapping of children on the street had been worthy of note, but Cian had taken his attempted raid on Squatter's Row as a personal affront. And while the fieflord had washed his hands of most of the criminal activity in the fief, that didn't mean Cian couldn't pick and fight her own battles.

She watched the streets. They were empty, which didn't mean much—the fief's residents always knew when something was about to go down. Her eyes snapped up at the sight of activity, one of her hands drawing nearer towards her hidden knives. A group of five men were headed for the bridge, four burly thugs and one smaller man in the center. The man in the center wore good clothes, an obvious sign of wealth in the fiefs, and a statement that he wasn't overly worried about being attacked for it. She frowned, doing the mental calculations.

Her people were well-hidden, but there weren't many of them, and she already knew that Chandler would bring a guard.

Four humans—possibly skilled fighters, but just as equally thugs with bludgeons. At least two of them were carrying bows. She frowned. Ari could get a shot in, but if one of them shot back, he'd be limited afterward. Unless she took down one archer. Her fingertips brushed over the hilt of one of her knives, her breath catching in her throat.

She could make that throw. But then they would scatter, and then they would likely lose Chandler. If they let him reach the bridge, though, they would lose him anyway—his contact probably had more guards with him. And she didn't have the shot on Chandler—his guards knew what they were doing. They shifted around so much that she was just as likely to hit one of them as she was to hit him.

And here she thought she had bled the fief dry of competent criminals. Oh well.

She took a deep breath, clenching her fist. Alright. Nothing else for it then. She would have to go with the direct approach. She exhaled, mentally preparing herself.

Pushing her hood back from her head and drawing herself up to her full height, she strode out of the alley way, coming to stand in front of the approaching party. Cian tilted her head slightly, and met Chandler's eyes, fully aware that her eyes must have been a deep blue. His men tensed, forming a loose half-circle around him, and she swore for a moment that she could feel every member of her own team holding their collective breath.

"Going somewhere, Chandler?" she asked, resting one hand loosely on her sword.

She heard the sound of bowstrings being drawn taut, and glanced at them out of the corner of her eye. They would shoot to injure, not kill. She was still the daughter of the fieflord, and the last time she had walked away injured, her father had blamed her for not paying enough attention to the fight, but if she turned up dead, she had a feeling Chandler would have bigger worries.

It was the third reason why she hadn't cared to bring a guard.

Chandler, noticing where her eyes had gone, quickly motioned for his men to lower their bows. He stepped forward, the bastard, and rubbed his hands together in a gesture of supplication, as he bowed.

"Lady Cian," he said. "How nice to see you this morning."

"It's a lovely morning," she agreed, as if they were discussing the weather. "A little too early for a stroll down the river, though, don't you think?"

"Now, Lady," said Chandler, putting a greasy smile on his face. "I'm sure there doesn't need to be any trouble. We would be happy to compensate your—ah, organization for their concern."

Her eyes darkened a shade, her lips twisting into a scowl. She accepted bribes, on occasion. The Roses weren't strictly legal—in the eyes of the Hawks they would probably be as criminal as anything else that happened on this side of the river. But there were people she would never accept a bribe from. Chandler was one of them.

"I don't think you can adequately compensate me for the other night," she said, her voice measured and cool.

"Ah, yes," said Chandler, looking nervous now. "Squatter's Row, was it? I assure you, honest mistake—my men weren't aware—."

She could play word games forever—she was probably going to end up doing so, but at the moment she was young, and at the moment, she had the freedom to be direct. "Cut the crap," she said. "You have two choices here. You can back out, release your captives, and go back to your miserable existence, or we'll do it for you, and you'll be very much worse for wear when we're done."

He tensed. Her threat got to him, she knew, but he didn't show it. Instead, he stepped back, and his men closed ranks around him, drawing swords. She heard him speak as they did, her own hand going to her rapier.

"Then I am sorry we weren't able to come to a compromise, Lady Cian."

Things always came down to a fight in the end. Cian drew her sword. It came free from its sheath without a sound, and she rushed forward, ducking under the first man's swing and slashing out. The blade caught him in the side, and he crumpled. She didn't give him time to fall, swinging around and meeting the blade of the second swordsman. An arrow fired, narrowly missing her. She felt the wind of its passing as she pushed the second swordsman back, the arrow going just over her shoulder. Cian cursed as the second swordsman retaliated, ready for her now. She was skilled enough to defeat most human fighters, but not yet skilled enough to feel good about her chances in a three-on-one fight. She stepped back, avoiding the fourth man as he drew a dagger on her, but at the same time giving the swordsman the opportunity to advance.

An arrow moved through the air, catching the enemy archer in the chest. The second archer turned towards it, an arrow in hand, but Ari was the faster shot, he fired off another one before the man could notch it to his bowstring. Cian gripped her saber tightly, rushing in as the swordsman attacked her. She swatted aside his blade, drawing the knife from her boot with her free hand and wielding it like a dagger as she slashed at her opponent. As she did, she turned to the left, her eyes narrowing. Chandler was getting away.

She dropped her opponent with a kick, taking off at a run towards him. An arrow struck the ground directly at his heels, a missed shot from Ari. A second grazed his arm, but he was quickly drawing out of her archer's range. She muttered another curse under her breath, her free hand reaching into her shirt pocket to grab hold of one of her throwing knives.

An arm caught her by the wrist, pulling her back sharply against someone's chest. Cian's eyes narrowed, and she turned, ready to give whoever it was a bloody nose, when she saw exactly who had interrupted her. The blue of her eyes darkened.

"What the hell are you _doing?"_ she asked angrily.

"Stopping you from getting yourself involved in something way over your head," replied Kaden Handred, a frown on his face. She growled a Leontine curse at him, striking his chest with her free fist. He let out a grunt of pain, but also didn't let go. Cian turned away from him, her eyes widening as she looked at Chandler. He was getting _away_.

A black arrow drifted across the river, striking Chandler in the back. He crumpled to the ground easily, and Cian froze, stilling in Kaden's grip as she trailed her eyes over at the other side of the river.

A man stood there, dressed all in black with a bow in his hand. No, she realized, not a man.

A Barrani. A green-eyed Barrani she didn't recognize, and one who wasn't carrying a quiver. One arrow, one shot. His eyes met hers, and she saw him smirk, offering her a nod. She didn't nod back.

"Kaden, who the hell is he?" she asked.

Her friend said nothing. Cian stared, watching as the unknown Barrani turned, walking calmly away from the scene. He had never crossed the bridge, but of course he wouldn't. Barrani never came to the Outcaste's fief unless they lived here. He'd made the kill from the other side of the river.

With one arrow. She had six knives, a sword, and six feet of distance, and hadn't managed.

"Kaden..." she began again.

She felt him let out the breath he was holding as he released his grip on her, and she stepped away from him, turning to face him.

"A Wolf," he finally said. "An Imperial Wolf."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **To the person who asked, I personally pronounce Cian like see-AHN. I was trying to come up with a Barrani-sounding name, and Cian was the first thing I came up with. At first I considered making it short for Ancian, but I didn't want to make it too Teela-ish. To everyone else, I'm glad you like it. ^^ And yes, she does have traits from both her parents (and some that are wholly her own). I tried to add that along with the implication in _Cast in Peril _that Barrani children can be a lot less jaded and more sentimental than their adult counterparts.

**Disclaimer:**I do not own the Chronicles of Elantra. They belong to Michelle Sagara.

XxXxX

**CHAPTER 2**

By the time the rest of the group assembled in the Roses' hideout, Cian was in a foul mood. She, Ari, Laila, and the two other Roses she had brought as back-up had opened the door of her hideout to an outpouring of cowering children of various ages, looked after by two men that wore their symbol. One glance at one of the men—a dark-haired boy named Jacob, who was about nineteen, told her all that she needed to know. His expression was grim, and he didn't attempt to crack a joke as soon as she walked in through the door.

His partner-in-crime, Pedri, was still making jokes with some of the younger kids, but she knew that that was more for their sake than for his. The five of them fanned out around the entryway, and out of the corner of her eye, Cian saw Kaden quietly take a up a spot by the door, his arms folded as he watched her carefully. He wouldn't say anything, she knew. This wasn't his world.

Beside her, Annette, the only other woman in their current group, snorted. "I knew four guards was too few for him," she said.

Laila said nothing. Annette could get away with pointing out the obvious—she was a short wisp of a human girl, and had learned to make herself intimidating in other ways—but Laila was Cian's right hand in this, and she knew better than to point anything out when Cian's eyes were so close to indigo.

"We were attacked by a raiding party of five," said Jacob, meeting Cian's eyes. "But Evan saw them before they rounded the corner, so we were able to get the kids underground."

Cian nodded sharply, not bothering to ask about the details of the attack. "Where's Evan now?" she asked.

Pedri looked up, giving her a fief shrug. "Snooping around, probably," he said. "Doing whatever else he does. He ran off after giving the warning, saying he had something he needed to check out."

"Ten coin it's got something to do with Barton's gang," she heard Ross, the final member currently in the room, whisper to Annette. Cian's brow rose at him, and he fell silent, lowering his eyes. She looked back at Jacob.

"You can take the kids back out," she said. "His raiding party's out of a job. Chandler's dead."

The two of them exchanged glances.

"You killed him?" asked Pedri after a while.

"No," said Cian. "He got hunted."

Jacob let out a low whistle. "By the Wolves?" he asked. "He got in deep."

She nodded once, but didn't say anything more about that. The Halls of Law typically left the fiefs alone. The only time they got involved was when fief crime spread into City crime. And when Wolves got involved in fief crime, something serious had just happened in the City. She glanced back at Kaden, but he was studiously avoiding her gaze.

Fine. He could be that way.

She turned back towards her team. "You two, go with them," she said, glancing pointedly at Annette and Ross. "Smoke out those raiders if they're still there."

The two exchanged glances. "What d'you want done with them, Boss?" asked Ross, frowning at her.

Cian paused for a moment, folding her arms as she thought it over. "...If they don't start anything, let them go. Make sure to tell them Chandler was killed by a Wolf. That'll get them to back off."

Annette's mouth thinned in a fine line. "You know they'll be back," she said. "They'll sell themselves out to Barton or whoever."

"And when they come back, we'll deal with them," said Cian. "There's plenty of people out killing each other for fun. We don't need to start. Get moving."

"You heard her, kids," said Pedri, getting up and nudging the two children closest to him forward. "Back to the Row."

Cian waited until all of the children had been ushered out, before she turned towards the two Roses still left in the room with her. Ari watched the kids go, a frown on his face. He had his bow slung over one shoulder, and three arrows left in his quiver. He wore a cloak today, probably because his hair's shocking shade of red was almost as distinctive as Cian's color-changing eyes. He looked back at her as the rest of the children left, watching her intently along with Laila.

"I want you two to track down Evan and Sel," she said. "See what they've got on Barton, and tell them..." She frowned, glancing at Kaden again before looking back at the two in front of her. "Tell them to drop everything on Chandler. He's the Empire's now."

"Haven't seen head or tail of Sel for days," said Laila, frowning. "That's going to be fun."

"She'll be around," said Cian. "There's no way she missed the mess with Chandler at the bridge. Get them back by tonight."

"Are you staying here tonight?" asked Ari, frowning at her. She glanced over at him, grimacing as she shook her head.

"Can't," she said. "I've got a book to read."

Ari stared. Laila turned her head to the side to repress a snicker. Cian glared at her, and she shook her head, turning back towards the archer and pushing him towards the door. "Go on, Red," she said. "I need a minute."

He frowned, but nodded once, walking calmly out the door. Cian watched him, noticing the way he met Kaden's eyes on the way out. It didn't take a genius to notice the obvious friction between the two of them. But whatever either of them thought, they kept it to themselves. Laila watched, resting one hand on her hip and rolling her eyes as the door closed behind them.

"Gods," she said. "It's like watching two dogs competing for attention."

Cian snorted. She didn't say anything, but the color of her eyes lightened a shade as she glanced over at the woman beside her. "What's up?" she asked.

"Last I saw her, Sel had something on Chandler," said Laila, turning back towards Cian. "Said his entire operation smells like magic."

Cian frowned. "We're dropping Chandler," she said. "Didn't you just hear me?"

"Sure we are," said Layla, giving Cian a knowing look. "Just thought you might want to know."

She did. It bothered her, knowing that Chandler had been messing with magic. She had been observing him long enough to know that he was no mage. She didn't need _Principal Magical Theory_ to tell her that. If magic had been involved in his operation, it had to have come from somewhere else.

Somewhere on the other side of the river.

"Well, I'm off," said Laila, apparently aware that she had just given Cian something to puzzle over for the next few hours. "You gonna take care of City Boy?"

She meant Kaden. Cian saw her childhood friend scowl slightly at the nickname.

"Yeah," she said, nodding once. "I'll take care of him."

Laila grinned and turned, heading for the door. The two of them watched as she passed, neither of them moving until the door closed behind her. Once it was closed, Cian mentally counted backwards from ten, waiting until she could no longer hear Laila's footsteps.

Then, she turned, slamming her fist into the wall.

It was stone, so it was a testament to Barrani fortitude that her hand didn't immediately shatter. The force of it, however, sent shockwaves of impact up her hand, and she muttered a somewhat unsavory but immensely satisfying word under her breath. She heard Kaden shift from his position against the wall, walking towards her.

"Been holding that in since the bridge?" asked Kaden, speaking for the first time since they arrived. She glanced over at him, shaking her hand out.

"You have _no _idea," she said, turning towards him. "It's insulting."

"That he had the Row attacked while you were occupied or that it's such a predictable move?"

"Both," she said. "The fact that he did it and the fact that he actually thought I wasn't going to expect it." It was just like Chandler to attempt to get the last word in while she was distracted. She had left three of her men here for just that reason. But it was so blatantly obvious that she felt insulted by it. If she had tried to play something similar against her father in a game of chess, he would have looked at her for a moment, before making a dry comment about her youth and asking her if she had been learning strategy from her mother. "And the fact that he's dead, so now I can't even take it out on him," she added.

She frowned, thinking it over. "You know," she said. "I think that's considered a breach of Court etiquette."

"What?" asked Kaden, frowning as he leaned against the wall. "Dying? I don't think Chandler planned it just to spite you."

"No," said Cian, "Killing someone another Barrani has a grudge on."

Kaden's brow rose. "Somehow I think the Barrani Wolf had bigger things on his mind," he said. "...And neither of you are Lords."

"Doesn't matter," said Cian. "It's still rude. But speaking of—". She rounded onto him. "How did _you _get mixed up in this."

Kaden frowned, suddenly appearing to be very interested in the armchair at the corner of the room just to her left. "My dad was a Wolf once, you know," he said.

"Yeah," said Cian, frowning. She could feel her eyes lightening as she turned towards him. They were still blue, but at least they weren't indigo anymore. "...But you're not a Wolf."

"No," said Kaden, nodding once. "But apparently my dad worked with that Wolf in the past. They met on the street this morning and talked a bit. He let slip that he would be going after Chandler. I think he did where I could hear on purpose, because he know I'd come out here to warn you."

Cian frowned, considering the implications of this. She didn't like it. If the Barrani Wolf knew enough about her to know that she was friends with Kaden and ran the Roses, then it meant that the Roses had shown up on the Imperial record. Or it meant that the Empire or the Court—or _both _of them—were watching _her_. She wasn't sure which one she liked less. And the Wolf had used Kaden to tip her off. That the Wolves were involved meant Chandler's crimes were now Imperial crimes, and if _she _had killed him instead of the Wolf...

He would have to report her involvement. She'd be investigated. Her Roses would be investigated. They wouldn't be arrested or stopped—their less-than-legal activities never left the fief, but they would be on the record.

Not to mention the fact that the Wolves acted in lieu of the Emperor. So basically, she would be on record as stealing the Emperor's kill.

"What's his angle?" she finally asked, looking up at Kaden.

Kaden shook his head. Apparently he had also thought through the same things. "No clue," he said. "I thought you'd have better ideas."

"He wants something," said Cian. "Either from me or from the Roses or from the fief. He wanted me to continue to have freedom to act without any eyes on me." She paused, thinking back to the Barrani man on the other side of the river. "...Any _other _eyes on me. That's the best I've got, anyway."

It didn't explain much. For one, it didn't tell her who he was working for. Was he acting on his own, or was he acting in the interests of someone else? The Wolflord? The Emperor? The High Court? Himself? Even her father—Outcaste or not, she knew he still had influence. Just teasing out the possible allegiances of a Barrani member of the Imperial Wolves was giving her a headache.

"You know what he's called?" asked Cian.

Kaden nodded once. "Ivalis," he said. "That's what my father called him anyway."

Ivalis. She'd remember that. "Friends from the Wolves visit your dad often?" she asked.

Kaden shook his head. "This is the first time," he said. "He doesn't even talk about those days. It's like he was always a Hawk."

She nodded. She'd known the answer before she asked, but she had to ask. She debated asking her father if he knew an Ivalis. He would probably know the answer, and if he knew it, he might even give it to her, but the asking would reveal a lot on her part—her curiosity, her involvement, the potential for continued involvement, Ivalis's presence at the edge of the fiefs...

Asking her mother was just as much of a lost cause. She thought like a Hawk. If she knew anything, she would become instantly suspicious, and unlike Lord Nightshade, her mother wasn't usually content to let her figure things out on her own.

But if Ivalis was interested in her for some reason, and if he'd gone out of his way to give her freedom to act...

She looked up sharply.

"I need Sel," she said.

"What?" asked Kaden, frowning at her.

"I need to talk to Sel," said Cian. "Laila implied that Sel had information about whatever Chandler was doing on the other side of the river. I need to find out what that is."

"I thought you were dropping Chandler," said Kaden, his frown deepening.

"I am," said Cian. "I'm picking up Ivalis."

Kaden stared at her for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not she was telling the truth.

"Think about it on the way," she said, turning to walk towards the door. "I need to pick up some things from home."

At that, he sighed, turning to follow her out the door. "You're going to get us killed one day," he said, falling in step beside her.

"Will it make you feel better if I promise to wait until you're old and gray?"

Kaden shot her a dark look. "That will _not _make me feel better," he said.

"Then keep moving," said Cian, striding purposefully towards the looming shape of the Castle.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I'm really glad to hear you guys would like to read my original work. Nothing's set in stone, but I might call you out on that in the near future. ^^ And I'm glad you like the relationship between Cian and Kaden, although now I'm afraid you'll hate me when this story gets where it's going, haha.

**Disclaimer:**I do not own the Chronicles of Elantra. They belong to Michelle Sagara.

XxXxX

**CHAPTER 3**

The streets cleared as she and Kaden moved through them, the people keeping their distance. That was nothing new. But the people of the fiefs no longer stared at her with the same fear and confusion in their eyes. There was fear, of course there was fear, but there was a certain amount of something else, an almost tangible awe in the crowd. They knew who she was—they had always known who she was, but now, in the three years since she had first started the Roses, they had come to learn what she did.

And they were safer for it.

The Roses would never be what the Hawks were, nor would they ever truly be the Law. But they were _a _Law—a twisted and corrupt Law when compared to the Halls, but they were what they had to be. And people knew it. When people like Chandler came down, they knew. The effect rippled through the fief, a polarizing wave that set everyone on edge.

Nobody stopped them on their way to the Castle. Nobody would. Nobody really even stared outright. As a group, the Roses got very little thanks, but what they did get was enough. The kids that had a protected place in Squatter's Row loved them. And occasionally, someone thanked her, with a word in passing, or the barest hint of a smile, or even an exchanged joke about her team. The human in her lived for those moments—they reminded her that what she was doing was worthwhile.

The Barrani in her was content with the fear.

But her mind wasn't on the people and their fears today. She barely spared them a second glance as she approached the Castle, Kaden at her side. Cian stepped through the portal, Kaden following close behind her. It deposited her in the entrance hall without any of the disorientation it reserved for her mother. The Castle had never affected her that way, and as a child, Cian had known why before she even understood it was strange.

She was the Castle's child. She had been born to it, born in it.

As far as she knew, she was the only person currently living who had been born _within _the threshold of a fief's Tower. Tara had told her once that she could feel a vague connection between Cian and the Castle. She couldn't feel it on most days. On most days, it wasn't the sort of thing that merited thinking about.

But there _were _days she had never told anyone about. Days when she had felt it at the back of her mind, soothing her worst nightmares or subtly shifting to accommodate her inner desires.

She frowned, pausing for a moment as she looked over at Kaden. He appeared next to her, suffering no disorientation from the portal either. Cian turned her attention to her friend—it was easier than the strange turn her thoughts had taken. "Shouldn't you be in class or something?" she asked.

Kaden shrugged. "I'm incredibly late at this point. I can miss one day."

"I feel like that's how Hawks get fired," said Cian, stepping into the Long Halls.

"Your mother's still around, isn't she?"

"Point," said Cian with a nod.

She paused as she rounded the corner, making her way past her mother's room to her own door. "When are you officially taking up the Hawk again?" she asked, placing her hand on the door and pushing it open.

"End of the year," said Kaden, glancing at her. "Why?"

"I might need to stop telling you everything about the Roses," said Cian, a small smile coming onto her face as she glanced at him. "Wouldn't want you trying to arrest me, after all."

"You don't do anything illegal in the City," he replied, glancing at her.

"As far as you know," said Cian, stepping into her room.

"Cian." He drew out the syllables in her name, the same way an exasperated parent might. Cian frowned at him, but said nothing, her eyes flashing a glittering green. Kaden caught the color change, following her into the room and letting the door close behind him. "You're joking, right?" he asked.

Her response was a fief shrug, the gesture perfectly practiced to make it look _almost _Barrani-graceful.

"Cian!"

"You will never know," she said.

Kaden snorted, taking a few steps away from the door so that he was standing in the center of her room. "Suddenly, I don't think I want to," he said.

She smiled for real this time, a flash of perfect Barrani teeth. "Smart choice. I'll be a minute. Make yourself at home."

He nodded. Kaden had been here enough that he really didn't need to be told twice, although the number and frequency of his visits had changed over the years. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him slip his hands into his pockets and start looking around the room, no doubt taking note of any changes since the last time he had been here. It had been a while ago, relatively speaking. He hadn't come to the Castle much since starting his Hawk training. Over the past year, he had barely come to this part of the Castle at all—she visited him in the City or they met in the fiefs.

There would be relatively few changes, she thought, as she walked over to her dresser. Her Castle room didn't really change much. There were a few new books on the shelf—all of them read and most of them less dry than the book she was currently cursed with now—a few new dresses in the wardrobe, and a few new knives in the drawers, although she doubted Kaden would be interested in those. The room was in a slight state of disarray—it always was—but it hadn't really changed much since her childhood. At its base it was the same subtly elegant room that the two of them would play in for hours as children, before falling asleep on the floor underneath the glass ceiling. It had the same large four-poster bed with pale blue sheets, the same writing desk, the same small sitting area with a table she propped her feet up on when no one was looking, the same delicate ivory and ebony chess set tucked in one corner, its pieces still in place from a previous game. It hadn't been a game with her father—those took place in the main library. She had been idly moving the pieces around herself, not really having much to do a few days ago.

Kaden walked over to one of her bedposts, the one at the foot of the bed closest to the door. He ran his fingers over a two-inch long notch in the wood, the slash cutting through the bed frame's ornate carvings. "You know, I still can't believe this is still here," he said. "Shouldn't the Castle have repaired it by now?"

Cian shrugged, reaching behind her and pulling out the leather strap that bound her hair. It fell down her back in a dark curtain. "You'd think," she said. "But I'm not even going to bother worrying about what the Castle thinks. I don't mind it," she said, rummaging around in her wardrobe for a bag. "...It adds a little character."

"I think the carvers would disagree," said Kaden.

"They were probably Barrani. So they'd disagree anyway—the fact that I'm sleeping here is enough." She tossed a set of clothes into her bag, watching again as Kaden moved away from the bed and started pacing the room. He studied the shelf. She ignored him for a moment, trying to focus on the things she needed to bring.

It was hard. She could still see him in the mirror.

"You still have this?" asked Kaden, drawing her attention.

He had a carved wooden figurine in his hand. It was roughly hewn, and incredibly out of place when compared to the Barrani décor the rest of the room sported, but it occupied a place on her desk. It was, vaguely, the carved figure of a girl in a simple sundress.

She'd always hated the gowns, but she tolerated the sundresses.

Cian hesitated, slowly lowering her brush back onto her dresser. "Why wouldn't I?" she asked, turning around to face him.

Kaden shrugged in response, turning the figure over in his hands. "It's just...it's not very good," he said. "I would have worked a little harder if I'd known you'd keep it for so long."

Cian sighed, looking over at him. "Kaden, you were thirteen," she said. "I like it. I want to keep it. Leave it at that."

"I'll make you another one one of these days," he said, in a tone that told her she couldn't argue her way out of it.

She rolled her eyes, walking over to him. "Yes, because woodcarving a sculpture of the daughter of a crime lord is the perfect use of a future Hawk's time," she said. She reached over to take the figurine out of his hands, her fingers lightly brushing his. He frowned at her, meeting her eyes.

"Cian, I'm being serious," he said.

"So am I," she replied, in a tone that surprised her with how serious it actually was. She pulled it out of his hands, setting it back on the desk. "I mean it. Leave it alone."

He stared at her for a moment, and she met his gaze. Her eyes were still mostly green, but they were hard as she looked at him, as if daring him to challenge her on this. Kaden stared at her, and his expression was serious as well. It shifted as he watched her, somehow changing from the childhood friend she knew to something unknown, and unreadable. The both of them stood with one hand on her writing desk, facing each other. There wasn't much space between them at all.

The door opened. Cian stepped away quickly, but not, apparently, quickly enough. Lord Nightshade's eyes were tinged with blue as he stood in the doorway to her room, one hand on the doorknob. She fought the urge to swallow, exhaling softly and composing her face as she met her father's eyes. The words 'don't you knock?' were on the tip of her tongue—she fought them back, speaking them out loud would mean admitting that she had something to hide.

Admitting it to him, and admitting it to herself.

He met her gaze for a moment before he glanced at Kaden. His expression was still unreadable. To her. She had no idea what her father saw there.

"Do you need something, Father?" asked Cian, drawing his attention back towards her.

Nightshade's eyes moved back towards her. "I wish to speak with you," he said. He looked back at Kaden. "Kaden."

"Kaden," said Cian as well, her voice cool.

One was a dismissal, the other an request. Kaden, to his credit, interpreted both, nodding once as he made his way to the door. His eyes lingered on Cian's a little longer than was necessary as he left, and she let out the breath she was holding as he looked away. Nightshade had asked him to go. Cian had asked him to not go far. The door closed behind him with a click, and the two of them stood there, staring at each other for a long moment.

They could have kept this up forever, in theory, but Nightshade eventually sighed, his eyes still frozen between blue and green, although his expression had softened somewhat.

"I was not aware that Kaden would be joining you today," he said.

"Neither was I," replied Cian, her expression quietly challenging. "Believe me, it was not entirely a welcome surprise."

"You are packing," he said, his eyes moving to her bag. It wasn't a question, and she didn't insult his intelligence by denying it. She nodded.

"Chandler's dead," she said. "A Wolf killed him. Because of these developments, I'm spending the night at the hideout, but I'll read the book while I'm out there." She considered mentioning Ivalis for a moment but decided against it. She didn't want to reveal everything Kaden had told her just yet.

"I see," said Nightshade. He frowned at her for a moment, watching as she slipped the book into her bag. "And Kaden Handred?"

"Can do whatever he wants," said Cian, slinging her bag over her shoulder. She frowned at her father. "It's not like I own him," she said. "I'm not going to stop him from coming with me if he wants to. Might be bad for his future career, but it's none of my business."

"I see." He spoke in a way that was distinctly neutral. It made Cian wonder exactly what he was trying to say. She thought she understood her father sometimes. Other times, he reminded her just how much she still had to learn.

"When will you return?" he asked.

"Tomorrow," replied Cian. "At first light." She made a mental note to actually _return _at first light. She already knew that he would hold her to it.

"Very well," said Nightshade, nodding once. "You may go."

"Thank you," she said, inclining her head towards him in respect. She placed one hand on the strap of her bag, making for the door. Cian paused as she reached it, resting one hand on the door frame.

The telling would reveal a lot. About her own motives, about her own concerns. But he was still her father. She took a breath, looking back at him. "Father?"

His brows rose. "Yes?" he asked.

"The Wolf was Barrani," she said. "He did not cross the bridge. Kaden informed me that he was called Ivalis."

She saw his eyes shift towards blue as she left, letting the door swing closed behind her. The telling had revealed much, but it had also given her something in return. She knew the brief look in his eye as she met up with Kaden in the hallway, her friend getting up as she reached him.

He knew the name.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **One of the challenges with writing from Cian's perspective instead of Kaylin's is that Kaylin's perspective is very much human, so when I was using her as the POV character, I could describe the Barrani as being sneaky or perfect or otherwise different. I can't really use Cian to describe herself, because although_ she _is different compared to everyone else, she perceives herself as normal. I don't know if that makes any sense, lol. XD

**Announcement: **_Familiarity _is up. It is a series of oneshots, mostly set between _Erenne _and _Fiefling_. It's all Nightlin, and so far, there's one story up, although I'll add more when inspiration strikes.

**Steph- **I do write original fiction. I have a completed rough draft of a novel that I'm revising. But it's hard to get published, so I can't make any promises. Having a published novel has been a dream of mine for a while, but I'm still constantly working on it. I'm 20, so I figure I have a lot of my life ahead to get it done. I'm flattered though, I'm glad you guys think I can write.

**Disclaimer:**I do not own the Chronicles of Elantra. They belong to Michelle Sagara.

XxXxX

**CHAPTER 4**

When they reached the street that led to the hideout, Cian made no move to turn towards it, instead continuing on through another couple of blocks. Kaden frowned, glancing at her as he followed her.

"You're not—," he began.

Cian raised up a hand to shush him, shaking her head. "Not yet," she said. "Follow me, try to stay out of sight, and let me do the talking."

Kaden's frown deepened, but he nodded once, following just behind her as she ducked out of the main street and into a series of inter-connected alleys. Cian kept an eye out for any potential witnesses. She did not, however, raise her hood, suggesting that she was still confident they were in friendly territory or that the hood wouldn't have mattered either way. In this case, it was a mix of the two.

She finally came to a stop in a tiny side street beside a rundown tavern. Cian wrinkled her nose up in spite of herself at the smell—she had been back here many times before, and was mostly used to the sights, sounds, and smells of the fief, but there was something about the distinct aroma of cheap alcohol, refuse, and drunk human that was particularly disgusting. She glanced over her shoulder, but if Kaden thought anything of it, he said nothing, his eyes darkening as he watched her. She looked away from him, stepping into the shadow the building afforded and raising one gloved hand to her lips. Cian blew out a clear whistle, her eyes scanning the alleyway.

A young boy emerged after a while, slipping out of the tavern's backdoor and padding stealthily over to her. Like most fief children, he was constantly dirty, although unlike most, he wore shoes—Cian had no doubt he would peel them off and run into the streets once whichever authority figure had jammed them on his feet looked away. He blinked owlishly up at her, as if surprised to see her there, but he approached anyway—he was one of those that seemed to have gotten over their fear of her.

"Lady Cian?" he asked.

She offered him a small smirk and a mischievous tilt of her head, pressing her finger to her lips to indicate secrecy as she crouched down to his level. Understanding, he came closer, and she reached into her pocket, pulling out a small silver coin.

"Get me Delia," she said, keeping her voice to a whisper as she pressed the coin into his hand. "Be quiet about it."

He nodded mutely, his eyes wide. She released him, and he scurried off, disappearing into the door of the tavern. He didn't even open his hand to look at the coin that Cian had given him. Knowing him, he was probably off to hide it somewhere safe, before any of the other fief children he lived with could catch on. She straightened up, glancing at Kaden. If he thought anything about the display or her request, he said nothing of it, but she could sense his slight puzzlement in his frown and the movement of his eyes, and saw the realization in them when Sel emerged out of the tavern's back door, barely a few minutes after the boy had left.

Or at least someone who looked like an auburn-haired, faintly tattooed version of Sel, and who was dressed like a barmaid. The dress she'd chosen was particularly low cut—Cian spared Kaden a glance to make sure his eyes were set firmly above her neck. It would have been difficult, considering that the location she had chosen for her—most likely fake—butterfly tattoo was not exactly a location that would be conducive to not drawing stares. Her hazel eyes twinkled mischievously as she gathered up her skirts in one hand, affecting a subservient bow.

"Lady Cian," she began.

Cian rolled her eyes. "Don't even start," she said, resting her hand on her hip.

Sel smiled. "Sorry," she said. "Couldn't resist. Great show by the bridge, by the way."

Cian didn't insult Sel by asking whether or not she was watching. Instead, she simply shrugged. "Could have gone better," she said.

"Kaden, nice to see you," said Sel, smiling brightly at her companion. "We've missed you as Cian's shadow."

Kaden, for the moment, chose to ignore that, his attention was elsewhere. He glanced at Cian, putting two and two together. "...Don't tell me we're in Barton's territory," he said.

Cian shrugged again. "Okay, fine. I won't tell you," she said.

"_Ci-an._"

Oh, there it was—the two-syllable version of her name that she hadn't heard in a long while. "He's not going to kill me," she said, glancing over at Sel.

"Yeah," said the other woman, nodding once. "Unfortunately, we can't all be that lucky." She gave Cian a pointed look. "Which is why I'm hoping this is important. I'm working."

Selma, or Sel, had been one of the last people Cian had recruited into the Roses, just over a year ago. She was twenty-one, and had been skulking around the fiefs gathering information for people under various names since she was much younger than that. She had introduced herself as Sel when Cian recruited her, and Cian had never pressed her for more information than that. A few weeks after her recruitment, Sel pointed out to her that Cian was the first person she had worked for who didn't demand to know her real name. Cian had given her the short answer, that she didn't care.

The longer answer, she kept to herself. It really didn't matter to her if Sel called herself Selma, or Delia, or Purple Dancing Fruitcake—she could call herself whatever she liked. There was no point in demanding Sel's real name.

She didn't have one.

None of them did, except for her. And she felt its weight in her chest, as she considered that, more keenly than she had felt it in the past.

_Averiayn. _

"_You are not an adult," _her father had told her on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. _"In the eyes of mortals, you may be considered mature—but mortals often speak of what they do not understand. When you take hold of your name fully, truly make it yours, then you will be considered grown." _

She didn't fully understand what he meant, but she had seen Barrani adulthood. She was in no hurry.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here," said Sel, drawing her attention back to the present. "Did you forget to tell Laila something?"

"You could say that," said Cian, looking Sel in the eye. "I need what you had on Chandler."

"Funny," said Sel. "I could have sworn Laila told me to conveniently forget everything I had on Chandler."

"She did," said Cian. "Remember it for a moment, tell it to me, and then I'll forget it."

"You don't forget."

Cian folded her arms. "No, but I can pretend I do," she said.

Sel gave Cian another glittering smile. It made Cian think, not for the first time, that if there were any truth to reincarnation, this woman had probably been a Barrani in her past life. Heck, just from listening to her father's stories, she thought she could guess which ones. "Chandler's City contact was a mage," she said.

"An Imperial Mage?" asked Cian.

"Here's the thing," said Sel, her smile widening. "No."

Cian's eyes darkened another shade of blue. "...An Arcanist?" she asked.

This time, Sel looked like the cat that had caught the canary. "You'd think, darling," she said. "_No_."

"Is he at least human?" asked Cian.

In response, Sel tapped the corner of her mouth. "Hmm...I think I might be able to say...fifty-fifty. But I'd put money on 'not', personally."

Cian frowned. "What makes you say he's human?" she asked.

"Your Wolf friend caught someone," said Sel. "My contact was all excited about it. He was a collaborator, and he was human."

She considered this for a moment, then set it aside. "...And what makes you say he's not?" she asked.

"Chandler," said Sel, smiling. "He seemed really smug going up against you. Most people wouldn't take you head-on, not unless they were crazy or desperate—or expecting some serious help. Immortal help."

She had a point. It wasn't one Cian wanted her to make, because barring the possibility that one of the sixDragon Lords currently active (excepting the Emperor) had decided to go rogue, she knew what kind of Immortal it would have had to be. If it was, Chandler's hope had been completely unfounded. A Barrani mage with an agenda wouldn't go out of his way to save what he considered an expendable mortal tool, and he certainly wouldn't expose himself to the Outcaste fieflord. But then again, knowing what the Barrani thought of hope, the supposed mage would probably think Chandler had gotten his just reward.

The next question wasn't one she particularly wanted the answer to, but she had to ask. "...And what makes you say he's a mage?" she asked.

"Because it wasn't just Nightshade," said Sel. "Apparently, he's been working with people in other fiefs too. You know the number of people Chandler was smuggling, and you've been to the City. Think of that seven times and tell me how you can hide that many people."

Cian's frown deepened. "Magic."

"I think it was a front," said Sel. "The human merchant. He's the one that did all of the actual dirty work. And then as soon as the Wolves come knocking..."

"The mage leaves him to take the fall." It wasn't hard to finish that sentence. It was a very Barrani thing to do. "You know what he was doing with all those people?" she asked.

Sel shrugged delicately. It wasn't Barrani graceful, but it was pretty good by mortal standards. "...You're the mage," she said. "You tell me."

"I'm not a mage," said Cian.

Kaden gave her a very pointed stare. She gave him one in return, hers carrying the promise that she would get him for that later. Sel glanced between the two of them, then grinned. "Well, I'll leave you two to your business," she said. "Consider Chandler forgotten. I might be able to drop by for dinner tonight."

"I'll be there," said Cian.

"Bring Kaden too," said Sel, smiling. "You just might earn some people some money."

That wasn't new information for her. Fieflings would bet on anything. But, as Cian walked away, she considered the fact that Sel had encouraged her to tip the odds in the favor of whoever was voting on her to return with Kaden. Which meant that the people on that side were probably the Roses that Cian would like.

XxXxX

"It's true," she said, as she followed Kaden across the river. She slipped off her gloves and tucked them into her belt, making sure the symbol on them wasn't visible. "I'm _not _a mage."

"I didn't say anything," said Kaden defensively.

"You were thinking it."

"Well, then it's pointless, because you can't stop me from thinking things," replied Kaden calmly.

Cian folded her arms, but did not respond. Any further argument would just make her seem childish at this point. Instead, she focused her eyes on the city streets, idly trying to pick out details she hadn't noticed before and _not _think about that day on the edge of the river when people had first started calling her a mage.

The transition from the fiefs to the City was almost jarring in its abruptness. The City wasn't the perfect place that the fieflings dreamed of—Cian knew that because she could go to the City. She knew the trials that world faced. But she could see why the fieflings might think that way, if they didn't know better. For one, people were cleaner, and generally richer, and generally more polite.

That didn't make them nicer or happier, but it was enough.

She glanced over at Kaden as they turned, walking down a familiar stretch of road. "Are you sure about this?" she asked. "You don't have to stay with me."

Kaden's response was to give her a look. "Didn't you say second guessing someone's decisions was considered rude?" he asked. There was no bitterness in his tone, just resignation.

Cian waved her hand dismissively. "You're not Barrani," she said. "And I'm being serious. Don't feel obligated to stay—it's not like we'll learn anything useful from Sel that we haven't already."

"I want to," said Kaden.

"Why?"

He frowned at her. "You're going to hate my reason."

Cian shrugged. "Pretend you're incredibly stupid and tell it to me anyway."

"I'm convinced that if I don't, you're going to do something incredibly stupid and reckless with the information Sel just gave you."

Cian stopped walking. Kaden did too, just a beat behind her. He paused, frowning as he looked back at her. She said nothing for a few long moments, fixing him with a flat stare. At length, she sighed, slowly unclenching her fists and continuing to walk. "And on the subject of Barrani etiquette..." she began coolly.

"You asked."

"Why does everyone think I'm going to do something stupid?" asked Cian, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. Kaden quirked an eyebrow at her, but opened his mouth to answer anyway. Cian held up a hand, cutting him off. "Rhetorical question. Please don't answer that."

The two of them walked in silence for a minute, before stopping in front of a familiar house. Kaden reached into his pocket, pulling out single key. He frowned, stopping on the first step leading up to the door and turning towards Cian. "Do you want to come in?" he asked.

Cian frowned, thinking it over. "Going to be a while?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not really," he said. "No one's home. I'm just here to pick up some things and leave a message."

"I'll wait out here," said Cian.

Kaden frowned, giving her a look that said he suspected she was up to something, but couldn't quite figure out what it was. After a moment, he gave up, slipping the key into the lock.

"Suit yourself," he said. "I'll be out in a minute."

Cian nodded, waving him off dismissively. "Take your time," she said.

He turned away, disappearing into the house and closing the door behind him. Cian waited until it was shut fully, then took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She let some of the tension leave her shoulders and her hands, unclenching her fists, before squaring her shoulders and straightening up.

"You can stop watching from the shadows now," she said, speaking to no one in particular.

A figure stepped out of a side street behind her, a small smirk on his face. She glanced over her shoulder at him, looking over the green of his eyes and the dark clothes he was wearing.

"Perceptive," he said. He spoke in Elantran, replying to her in the same language she had spoken to him. "What gave me away?"

Cian tilted her head up slightly, resting one hand lightly on her waist. She kept it close to the hilt of her sword. He saw, but he didn't react—his eyes didn't even shift color. She knew attacking would be stupid. All other things being equal, she could fight and kill almost any human fighter.

But he wasn't human.

"You did," she said. "You let me notice you."

"I wasn't entirely sure you would manage," he said. "Although I did make it easier, yes."

Because you wanted to see what I could do. You wanted me to notice you, to call you out, so you'd know whether or not I was a threat—or going to be useful. The words were in her mind, but she didn't speak them. That would be pointing out the obvious. Instead, she shrugged one shoulder. "I've been tailed before," she said. "I know what to keep an eye out for."

The game was a delicate thing. She could see it, almost as though she was looking at it out of the corner of her eye. It emanated from him like vines, little tendrils of connection, from thing to thing and from place to place—thin silvery wisps that bound everything together in a delicate tapestry. And as one of the tendrils moved—a thin, wispy one—reaching its way across the distance towards her, she saw the game between them begin to take form in her mind's eye. A chessboard, squares of black and white across the street, the both of them facing each other as king to king, the pieces still perfectly in place.

As a child to the Barrani, she was theoretically immune to the games they played. In practice, she was only immune to the consequences of them. The Barrani didn't kill their children. That didn't mean they weren't willing to _use _them if they had to.

After all, how else were the children supposed to learn to play their own games?

"...So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked, meeting his eyes.

Her own eyes flashed blue for a moment.

"Ivalis."

In her mind, a single white pawn took two steps forward.

The game had begun.


End file.
